


The Boy Who Cried Cupcake

by SluttyMcDougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied Underage, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SluttyMcDougal/pseuds/SluttyMcDougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles inadvertently takes out his frustrations on Lacrosse and Isaac. Or the one in which Stiles throws balls at Isaac until Isaac buys him food and prompts Stiles to consider relationship-type things with Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy Who Cried Cupcake

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the Teen Wolf Fan Fiction contest. Just for funsies. Thanks to [sapphirescribe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirescribe) and [venis_envy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/venis_envy) for pre-reading.

"Holy crap, Stiles. What is _up_ with you?" Isaac was starting to regret agreeing to play goalie while his teammate lobbed ball after solid-rubber ball at the goal, each shot getting subsequently closer to his head. "Are you _trying_ to take my head off?"

The other guy startled, appearing to be dragged out of another world entirely. His expression was wounded as if it were him who had been dodging the small white projectiles, and he blinked several times at Isaac.

"I… no. I'm sorry. No…" Stiles scratched his head and frowned before dipping down to retrieve another ball with his stick, experimentally tossing it in the air and letting it land in the mesh pouch a few times. Raising his eyebrow in question, he tipped his chin toward his goalie.

Isaac rolled his head to pop the kinks in his neck and crouched slightly, nodding an affirmative to Stiles' silent question.

After several more aggressive shots from Stiles, Isaac dropped his stick and held up his hands in surrender.

"Time-out, man!" he growled.

Stiles' expression was uncharacteristically indignant as he threw his lacrosse stick to the ground. Indignation gave way to aggravation when he noted his goalie approaching him as if Stiles were the supernatural predator, and not a completely non-threatening mass of insignificance and frustration.

"I agreed to keep the wolf business in check, but that's about to change if you're going to insist on trying to bury a ball in my frontal lobe."

"Want a helmet?" Stiles asked.

"Want to tell me what's wrong?" Isaac encouraged, trying to slow his own racing heart after being someone's anger target.

Stiles theatrically shrugged, his thoughtful frown letting Isaac know that he was about to get hit with a slew of ridiculously well-chosen words that would most likely make Isaac feel guilty for something that just wasn't his fault.

"Oh, I don't know… what could be wrong? It couldn't have anything to do with dodging death no less than a dozen times since Derek's sister's body was discovered in the woods, or trying to keep my best friend from going all mega carnivore once a month, or having the crap kicked out of me by some old guy dying from cancer, or disappointing my dad every other day because of having to lie and steal and basically cover everyone else's collective ass since I'm apparently some kind of pack-mother-protector, or trying to unsee my father getting brutally attacked at the police station, or the simple fact that I'm the most painfully ordinary member of this misfit posse, _and_ my best friend is off trying to come to terms with how he's decidedly peachy-freaking-keen with breaking up with the love of his life when I can't get a date to save mine."

"Is that all?" Isaac asked, tone flat.

Stiles took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out with a huff. "That, and I desperately want a cupcake."

"The whole pack-of-alphas thing doesn't bother you at all, then?"

"Well, it does now that you _brought it up!_ " he spat.

"SATs? Totally cool with that, too?"

"Just twist the knife in my chest a little harder, why don't you?"

"I think you need to chill out just a little before you spontaneously combust, sport."

Stiles couldn't possibly have had a more thoroughly ticked-off pout, and he vibrated with all the vexation of an incensed puppy.

"Okay. Let's try this: What kind of cupcake do you want?"

Stiles didn't even have to think. "Chocolate, with chocolate fudge filling, and chocolate frosting."

Isaac raised an eyebrow. "And your period's due to start when?" He just barely managed to engage his lupine reflexes in time to catch the ball Stiles threw directly at his forehead. "Aaaalrighty," he said, flicking his wrist to toss the ball back to Stiles. "How about we call it a day, you take me to Hale's and I'll get you a chocolate cupcake on the way so you can eat your feelings for a while?"

Stiles was already collecting his gear before Isaac finished his question.

*  *  *

Isaac watched Stiles out of the corner of his eye from the passenger seat as Stiles drove them to the Hale house. He watched in awe as the guy stuffed his face full of french fries, something they stopped to picked up by way of apology after Isaac had asked Stiles some off-the-wall question about Lydia. The mondo chocolate cupcake Stiles had just inhaled seemed to calm him down, amazingly enough, only to have the calm completely dashed beneath the cloven feet of a heard of demonic beasts at the mere mention of the girls name, prompting them to pull up to a drive-thru for an order of fries.

With his mouth full of salt, grease, and potatoes of questionable quality, Stiles lamented about Lydia Martin.

"Why can't it just be enough that I've been in love with her forever and would do absolutely _anything_ for her? What is so repulsive about me that she continuously goes back to lizard boy? It's not like anyone would be handing him a Boyfriend of the Year award any time soon."

Isaac shrugged. "The heart wants what it wants."

Stiles grimaced and crumpled his empty fry container, preparing to throw it at Isaac before he stopped himself.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry." Quickly pulling off to the side of the road, Stiles put the vehicle in park and slammed his hands repeatedly against the steering wheel. "I just realized I've been throwing things at you all afternoon, and that makes me a complete di—"

"Don't. Apology accepted."

"I… okay. Okay. I'm sorry. Just… spare me the platitudes, alright?"

Isaac nodded. "You're not repulsive, just so you know."

Stiles turned to look at his friend, considering him for several moments before raising an eyebrow and gesturing toward his passenger. "Are you saying—?"

"Hardly," Isaac interrupted with a laugh. "Sorry, but you're not exactly my type," he added.

Stiles' shoulders slumped and he frowned. "Apparently, I'm no one's type."

"Not true. You're Erica's type."

Stiles shivered. "Erica terrifies me."

"Well, think about that, then. Prime example of how simply feeling a certain way about someone doesn't mean that person is going to return those feelings."

"I didn't expect Lydia to fall in love with me just because I'm in love with her." Frowning, Stiles then shifted into drive and pulled back onto the road.

The ride to Derek Hale's house was silent, except for how Isaac was fairly certain he could hear the wheels inside Stiles' head clanging and grinding and spinning at an enormously fierce rate. The guy clearly never stopped thinking.

When they arrived at their destination, Isaac finally broke the silence. "Are you really in love with her? Or are you maybe just in love with the _idea_ of her?"

Stiles squinted and his expression was comically stern. "What are you even talking about?"

"I'm just saying that you may just be in love with what she represents. She's beautiful, brilliant, and virtually unattainable. She's a challenge, and you never like backing down from a challenge." When Stiles didn't attempt to disagree, Isaac continued. "Maybe you should consider that there might be someone else who fits the bill. Allison, perhaps?"

Stiles vehemently shook his head. "That would be wrong on so many levels."

"Erica?"

"Yeah, um… the whole terrifying thing doesn't exactly turn me on."

"Ms. Morell?"

"Of course! Pursuing the school shrink would _totally_ end well. So glad we're having this talk, Dr. Feelgood—"

"Danny?"

Stiles gave him a sarcastic grin. "Nice try, but believe it or not, I'm not his type either."

"Derek?"

Rolling his eyes, Stiles said, "Derek's _way_ too… wait a second." He turned to fully face his passenger. "Did he… did Derek… ya know… has he…" He paused to rub the back of his head, considering his words. "Ha-has he said anything… about me?"

Isaac smirked just as their conversation was interrupted by someone rapping their knuckles— _hard_ —against the driver-side window.

Stiles simultaneously balled up and thrashed within the confines of his seatbelt shouting, "Oh my _God!_ " before finally turning to look at Derek through the window. Then turning back to face Isaac, he hiss-whispered, "How long has he been standing there?"

Derek knocked on the window again, growing impatient, until Stiles finally turned back around. The alpha's thick, dark eyebrows were a flat line of emotionless authority as he made the cranking gesture for Stiles to roll down his window.

Without hesitating, Stiles did as he was ordered.

"You know, car windows have buttons now, so that little turning-hand-motion thing is kinda obsolete… hey. 'Sup?" Stiles then tipped his chin at Derek.

"I'm not going to jail, Stiles," Derek said.

"Jail?" Stiles' eyes went wide. "Who said anything about jail? What are you talking about?"

Derek pointed to his own ears. "I have pretty sensitive hearing."

"Oh," Stiles replied, confused. "Oooh! Um…"

"Derek?" Isaac asked, all grins and sing-song voice. "Can Stiles stay for dinner?"

"What are you talking about?" Derek asked. "Stiles has to go get dinner, first." He gave Stiles a toothy grin and brusquely patted his cheek.

"You know you could have called and asked before I drove all the way out here—"

"I'm sorry?" Derek cut him off, one previously flat eyebrow arching in challenge.

"Dinner got it. So, pizza then?"

"Meat-lover's, please," Isaac whispered in Stiles' ear before hopping out the door.

"Yeah, you're real funny," Stiles shot back.

Isaac headed for the front door with Derek, waving his fingers delicately over his shoulder. The alpha wolf paused to turn around, catching Stiles' eye through the windshield and smiling wide before ducking his head.

Stiles smiled back, and shifted his vehicle hard into reverse. With tires spinning out as he took off, pizza was the farthest thing from his mind.


End file.
